The next day, Aragorn was unwell. He had a high fever and felt as though his whole body had been hit by a bus. Nevertheless, he attempted to get out of bed.
Frodo was stealing snack bars from the kitchen when he heard a loud thud from above. Going to investigate, he found Aragorn lying on his bedroom floor in a crumpled heap.
"Aragorn! Aragorn! What's wrong? Talk to me!"
All he received was a feeble groan in reply. Frodo placed his hand on Aragorn's forehead and found it burning red-hot. He noticed his skin was grey and sweaty, and his eyes were sunken and etched with purple shadows.
"Boromir!" Frodo called, recognising his footstep outside on the landing.
"Frodo? What's- Aragorn!" Boromir's eyes widened in alarm.
Frodo gestured at the bed. "Help me get him up." He ordered.
Boromir quickly did as he was told, then grabbed his mobile from his pocket and called the school were Aragorn worked to inform them he was ill.
"I'm going to take the day off." Frodo informed him. "Someone has to take care of him. He really is sick."
Legolas and Gimli popped their heads around the door. "What's happening?" they asked. When Frodo told them, they looked at each other guiltily.
"Yes, you should feel bad." Frodo told them sternly. They nodded shamefacedly before retreating.
Frodo nursed him all through the day. He mopped his brow with cold water; wrapped him up in numerous blankets; brought him soup and attempted to feed it to him. Aragorn briefly came around a couple of times but mostly he just slept. By evening, Frodo was relieved to see some of the sickly pallor had faded from his cheeks.
Just then, Frodo remembered he had promised to go see Bilbo at 8. They hadn't seen each other in a really long time, and if he was going to be on time he had to catch the train as soon as possible. Frodo glanced guiltily at Aragorn's sleeping face. He did look better.
He ran to Boromir's room and knocked loudly.
When Boromir opened it, he asked "Boromir, will you look after Aragorn for a couple of hours? I promised to meet Bilbo."
Boromir looked uneasy. "Er…well, I kinda have a date tonight, Fro. She's special this one and I don't want to mess it up."
Frodo noticed Boromir had actually combed his hair and was dressed rather smartly. "Alright, I'll ask someone else. Good luck!" Frodo winked, causing Boromir to grin and duck his head bashfully.
He tried Legolas and Gandalf, but it turned out they were going clubbing. Frodo tried to keep his expression completely neutral when he was told this, but he could feel his eyebrows twitching.
Gimli was nowhere to be found and must have gone out for a night alone, and Sam was determined to watch Bake-Off and didn't want to leave the living room.
That left Merry and Pippin.
"Of course we'll look after him!" said Merry brightly.
"You will stay with him won't you? He might take a turn for the worse." Frodo asked, feeling slightly uneasy about giving them such a responsibility.
"Yep!" smiled Pippin. "We'll make him right as rain! I'll even sing to him, how's that?"
Frodo shrugged of his anxiety. "Thanks guys. You're the best!" he ran off to catch the train.
Merry raided the kitchen and found a load of snacks. He and Pippin brought them up to Aragorn's room and settled down comfortably beside his bed.
"He looks very pale, isn't it?" Pippin observed through a mouthful of peanut-butter sandwich.
Merry nodded and took a large swig of lemonade. "And kinda still…"
They looked at each other for a moment. "Nah, I'm sure he's fine!" Merry laughed and they both began stuffing their cheeks again.
When the food ran out however, they had nothing to do but sit and watch Aragorn. Pippin again felt a shiver of unease. "Merry…" he began. "He's definitely not…died has he?"
"Don't be stupid!" Merry snapped. "Look, you can see him breathing."
Pippin looked. "I can't."
"Neither can I." Merry admitted.
They both began to tremble with fear. With nervous trepidation, Merry reached out and touched Aragorn's hand. It was cold.
"Oh my God!" he cried.
"Aragorn! ARAGORN!" Pippin burst into tears and leapt onto the bed, straddling Aragorn's chest and shaking him desperately by the shoulders.
With a start, Aragorn woke up. Instinctively, he grabbed something from under his pillow. Pippin went completely still when he realised a knife was being held to his throat. Aragorn blinked a few times, recognised Pippin, and immediately lowered the knife. "My god, Pippin, I'm so-" but Pippin had begun to scream.
Aragorn reached over and put his hand over Pippin's mouth. "No, shush Pippin, its o-argh!" Pippin had bit down viciously and leapt away from him into Merry's arm, who was staring at Aragorn in horror.
"You've got a knife." He said dumbly.
"He's got a knife!" Pippin screamed, sobbing in terror. "A KNIFE! Sam! SAM!" he rushed out of the room, dragging Merry with him.
Aragorn heard him yelling to Sam "Sam, Sam, Strider's got a KNIFE! Under his pillow! He's a maniac, a psychopath! Run, RUN!"
Aragorn groaned and flopped back down on his bed. He couldn't think straight and didn't know how to save the situation. He buried his face in his hands. God I miss Arwen, he thought miserably. He imagined the soft, soothing touch of his girlfriend's hand running through his hair, her soft lips against his own, and felt a little better. She had gone away on a gap-year to Austria. He wished now that he hadn't refused to join her, but he'd felt a responsibility toward his students.
The door creaked open and Sam peered warily in. "Strider?" he took a cautious step into the room. "What's all this about a knife?"
Aragorn ruefully held up the small, intricately carved blade. Sam blanched and took a step backwards.
"No Sam wait." Aragorn begged. "It's just a precaution. I don't feel safe and I can't sleep without it, I have no idea why. I would never use it on anybody. Pippin surprised me, that's all."
Sam considered, then pulled himself together. "Of course you wouldn't." he said decisively. "I never would believe such a thing of you."
"Pippin would." Aragorn muttered miserably.
Sam patted him gently on the arm. "No, no. You just frightened him bad…he'll be over it by tomorrow."
Aragorn smiled. "I hope so."
"Are you feeling any better?"
"Quite a bit actually. Its nice to finally get some sleep. I'll be back to work for tomorrow."
Sam put his hands on his hips. "No you will not!" he stated crossly. "You need a proper 3 days to recover and I'm making sure you get them."
"But-"
Sam shushed him firmly. "No buts. You do as I say, or I'll tie you down. I mean it."
Aragorn looked at him. "Fine…" he sighed, raising his hands in defeat.
Sam clapped his hands together, pleased. "Right. You go right back to sleep now, you. I'll arrange it all with the school. Goodnight."
He turned of the light, and Aragorn slipped back into delightful, blessed sleep.
ANY IDEAS WOULD BE VERY WELCOME! THANK YOU FOR READING.
